


The Escort

by fellowwriter



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Exhibitionism, F/M, Leashes, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-07-09 03:09:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19880626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fellowwriter/pseuds/fellowwriter
Summary: Gigolo Copia is hired by a woman to make another man jealous.





	1. Chapter 1

“I’m sorry. It’s taken.” I smiled apologetically at the couple who inquired about the barstool beneath my evening bag.

I arrived early to have a kir royale before I met him. I had never done something so brash.

“Is this seat—”

“No, I’m sorry.” I shook my head at another couple who became indignant when I wouldn’t give up the spot.

I sat straighter, my eyes circling the bar again, but I wasn’t sure whom to look for.

_He’ll wear a black tailcoat suit._

There was only one man in the bar wearing tails—already paired off. I had little else to go on.

I was monitoring the entrance when the bartender placed a second kir royale in front of me.

“I didn’t order that.”

“He did.” The barman pointed towards the far corner of the room, and I swiveled to see him, taken aback by how striking he looked.

He stared for an uncomfortable minute, and when he turned his head farther, revealing his entire face, I gasped at his mesmerizing mismatched eyes, glowing beneath blackened orbital rings.

His chestnut hair was slicked back with long sideburns, and he had impeccable posture, sitting with his legs elegantly crossed.

I raised my glass at him. His lips slightly pursed beneath his thin mustache, but he didn’t smile.

As I sipped my drink, he glided across the room between tables, the hidden long, pointed tails of his coat now waving behind him. His pants—formal yet also form-fitting—were tailored at the knee break into dramatic seams that made his legs appear even longer.

“How do you do.” He took my hand in his and raised it to his lips, squeezing his gloved leather fingers around mine, his index finger subtly probing upward until it caressed my wrist.

“It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for the drink.”

He continued to hold my hand as he stared.

“You’re... quite stunning.” He lightly rubbed his thumb back and forth between two of my knuckles as he looked down my dress.

“Please sit down.” I reached for my clutch and set it on the bar as he pulled the stool close and slid back onto it, still holding my hand and pulling it to his lap. His thigh felt firm. He draped his other arm over my backrest, his fingers lightly touching my arm.

“A drink?” I held up my glass and took a sip.

“No, thank you.”

He was captivating up close, his eyes luminous.

“I must admit... I didn’t know what to expect tonight.” I set my glass down.

“She didn’t tell you about my appearance.”

“No.”

He studied my face carefully.

“Are you disappointed.”

“No.”

His deep gaze unsettled me, and I looked down at his left lapel, which sported a decorative symbol I didn’t recognize. Beneath his tailcoat, he wore a modern clerical collar instead of a tie, and something shiny peeked through the center notch where the tab was missing.

“I heard you want to be noticed tonight.”

“Yes. I want to make someone jealous.” Our eyes met again before mine darted away towards the glass shelves of liquor behind the bartender.

“Usually,” he spoke slowly and quietly, “that’s accomplished by ensuring you have a good time.” He leaned his head in closer. “A very good time.”

I took a long sip of my drink.

“You haven’t done this before.”

I shook my head.

He swiveled my stool slowly so I faced him, my knees between his spread legs.

“May I.” He held out both hands, and I gave him mine.

Without breaking eye contact, he placed my hands to his shoulders, guiding them slowly down over his chest.

“Is this all right.”

I nodded.

“To provoke jealousy, we will need to touch each other.” He slid my hands over his abdomen. “So we should become acquainted.” He let go when my hands were at his waist. “Try my hips.”

His mouth opened slightly as I lowered my hands over his tight-fitting clothes.

“Now I am having a good time. Keep going.”

I stared at the bulge in his lap incredulously.

“I meant my legs.” Still frozen, he took my hands again and slid them to his mounds of thigh. “Now, do it again, looking me in the eyes.”

I put my hands to his shoulders more confidently this time, and as I slid them down, his torso gyrated lazily, pushing against my palms.

“It’s better lying down,” he assured me quietly as we kept going, and when I reached his hips, he leaned closer.

“Would you like to try my ass,” he whispered, and his frankness left me dumbstruck. I looked away from his intense stare as he covered my hands with his again. “My ass,” he repeated, waiting until I met his gaze to guide my hands beneath the tails of his coat, spreading my fingers over his firm cheeks.

“It’s yours for the night,” he added, his face so close now that I felt his breath. “May I kiss your neck.”

I lifted my chin slightly, and I smelled his aftershave as he pressed his lips below my jawline.

“I’m going to find out where you like to be kissed,” he explained. “Squeeze my ass when you’re having a good time.”

His mustache slid down my throat, exploring my décolletage, his lips hot where he pressed them to my skin. My nerves lit up as he hesitated each time, awaiting a reaction before he traced the next area of sensitive flesh.

My lips cracked open, trying to breathe and stay calm. I worried we were making a scene in the bar, but as he kept on, my eyes involuntarily closed.

“May I kiss your lips.”

I kept my eyes shut, my mouth salivating as he neared, and I felt his mustache as he barely grazed them.

“Are you having a good time.”

I softly squeezed his ass, and his lips were at my jawline again, trailing towards my ear.

His fingers brushed my hair aside, exposing more skin. He started high behind my ear, and as he followed the contour down, I shuddered when he found the spot near my hairline.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised as he increased the pressure, and I squeezed his ass firmly.

I felt his breath again on my chin, and then another soft peck on the lips.

“May I use my tongue.”

My mouth fell open, eager for his kiss, but instead he latched on to my spot again, his lips and tongue making everything warm.

When I realized how much my palms were sweating, I lifted my hands. He blew softly on my spot to dry it before pulling away.

As our eyes met again, there was this chemistry I couldn’t explain—not after knowing him for only a few minutes.

“Does he kiss you like that.”

I hesitated.

“No.” It felt uncomfortable speaking about him.

“Good. The look on your face says we just fucked,” he said bluntly. “Let’s finish your drink.”

I swiveled forward, both disappointed and relieved. His arm fell along my backrest again, and he stared intently as I lifted my glass and sipped, watching my throat swallow.

“May I know where he will be tonight.” I felt his fingers on my arm again. “So I may be prepared.”

“We have box seats close to the stage.”

“He’ll be in the box with us.”

“No, he will be behind the curtain. Stage left.”

When I glanced at him, I saw his confusion.

“He’s the director,” I explained. “We’re sitting in his box on the other side of the stage.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You vixen.”

As I stammered to justify my behavior, he shook his head and leaned in.

“He’s not my business,” he said lightly, turning my chin to the side. “You are.”

He stared at my lips uncomfortably until they opened.

“Would you like to kiss me. We should practice.”

Without answering, I leaned in and he pressed our lips together, waiting for my tongue before giving me his. His arm on my chair slid up around my shoulders in our embrace. There was passion I hadn’t felt in months, and when I broke the kiss, he stayed close and licked his lips, waiting and knowing that I wasn’t finished. I nearly devoured him the second time.

“You’re a very passionate woman,” he commented as I settled back in my seat, observing me as I finished my drink. “I’m pleased you find me attractive. I am also attracted to you.”

My ears burned as I looked at him.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because it’s the truth. And it gives you confidence.” He paused. “You haven’t felt attraction in a long time, have you.”

“He’s been... distant. He wasn’t always.” I looked away.

“If you were mine,” his fingers slid up my arm to caress my shoulder, “you would be shown affection every day.”

“You’re mine for tonight,” I reminded him.

“I am.” When he took my hand in my lap, I saw the metal shining at his neck again, and he noticed me staring at it.

“Do you know what that is.”

“No.”

“Go on,” he instructed, and he swallowed as my fingers found and lifted a shiny black dog tag—a small metal plate that bore the same symbol as his suit. I admired it before searching the folds of his neck for the leather that disappeared beneath the fabric.

“A collar,” I murmured.

His eyes closed as I put my index finger through the D-ring and pulled gently.

“She instructed me to wear it,” he confided as he opened his eyes, visibly aroused by what I’d done.

He sat up straight and reached into the pocket inside his jacket, placing something cold into my palm.

We stared into each other’s eyes awkwardly.

“She didn’t mention this. What do I need to know about tonight?” I looked down at the black-coated chain leash I was holding.

“That I will follow your instructions—whatever you ask of me. Please, put it on.”

“Here?” I whispered.

He nodded and lifted his chin.

I opened the swivel snap hook carefully, and when it clicked into place over the D-ring, his eyes snapped shut.

“Make sure it’s secure,” he whispered between gritted teeth. When I tugged the chain, he grunted, and I glanced around the noisy bar, glad that no one noticed what we were doing amid the clamor.

“To make him jealous, you need to be comfortable being the center of attention.” He reached for my hand and slowly slipped the soft leather loop handle over my forearm. “Comfortable being in control,” he added as he leaned in and caressed my neck again with his glove.

“What is your name?” I was intrigued by him now.

“You may call me whatever you’d like tonight.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

I felt his mustache brush my ear as he whispered it: “Copia.”


	2. Chapter 2

We received some unusual looks when we left the bar. He kept a hand on my back as we weaved through the tables, but insisted I keep hold of the leather loop.

“You’re in control,” he rasped in a low voice.

“Breathtaking!” One woman exclaimed as we passed, and Copia raised his nose and acknowledged her. There were other comments I couldn’t hear as some groups exchanged whispers, their eyes on us.

When I heard my name, I froze and spun around. An acquaintance from the theater waved at me. 

“What show is he from?” She called out across the room, and Copia turned and blew her a kiss as I smiled and awkwardly waved back. He took my arm as we exited the door.

“Is there a backstory I should know for tonight.” He stopped on the sidewalk in front of the bar’s windows.

“I didn’t think I needed one.”

“Acquaintances of his will see us.” He cocked his head.

“Yes.”

“If anyone asks, I’m your new lover.”

The intensity with which he said it left me speechless.

“You want to make him jealous, don’t you.”

“Yes.”

Copia stepped forward and put both hands to my waist, and I felt all eyes from the bar on us.

“I could be your lover tonight,” he whispered, and I felt my cheeks grow hot. “If you’d like to take things that far.” His eyes were on my lips again. “Pull my leash until I kiss you.”

I curled a length of coated chain around my wrist, bringing his head closer.

“Copia,” I whispered, but he silenced me with his eyes.

“This is how lovers look at each other,” he rasped. “Does he look at you like that.”

I didn’t have to answer. He put a hand to my cheek, and I noticed his freckles for the first time as his mouth parted, everything turning red when our eyes finally closed.

“Now they will talk about us,” he whispered over my lips. His arm slipped around my waist as he kissed me again, and I held the chain tightly.

When we straightened, he placed my hand over the arm he held out, pressing his elbow to his side as we walked to the corner and across the cobbled street. Opera patrons dotted the steps outside socializing, and Copia said hello to them as we passed and they stared at the black chain hanging from his neck.

My name was on the list at will call, and Copia took the tickets and slipped them into his jacket pocket.

“Sir,” the gentleman behind the counter addressed him, “the coat check is there.” He pointed across the lobby.

“It’s coated so it won’t make noise,” Copia explained as he straightened the leash like he was wearing a tie.

I shared an awkward look with the gentleman and mouthed “thank you” before we turned towards the concession lounge.

“You don’t drink at all?” I asked as he ordered me another kir royale and a mineral water for himself.

“Not on the job.” He waited until I received my drink before taking a sip. “I am always prepared to perform.”

He politely gestured at his crotch, and the bulge in his trousers was noticeably larger.

“As soon as I kissed you,” he added.

We stood near a round bar table to set our drinks down.

He straightened his jacket, but its curved front hem between the pointed flaps seemed to only accentuate his ample extremity.

“May I.”

He held out his hand, and I took his palm. Leaning in, he kissed me on the cheek as he lowered his arm, holding my hand below his hip.

He watched me closely as he discretely turned the back of my hand to his trousers.

“Should I continue.”

He read my eyes before he slowly slid my knuckles over the fabric-covered mound.

“Are you having a good time.”

He separated my second and third fingers with his thumb and traced them over the outline of his cock, carefully watching my reaction. I pulled lightly on the leash until his mustache was at my cheek.

His eyes were simultaneously light and seductive, his manners both polite and crude. I found his paradox alluring.

“Will you help me make a phone call?” With my eyes I looked towards the row of three booths at the far end of the lobby. The historic theater had removed the phones long ago, but still encouraged patrons to have their mobile conversations privately.

His mouth was now at the corner of mine, his eyes large and heavy. I liked the way he smelled when he was close.

I repeated the gesture with my fingers, the length of his cock sliding between them. He stayed still, his back to the others in the lounge.

“Don’t you want others to see us.”

“I need to see you,” I whispered as our eyes locked. “Let’s go.”

As we turned and started walking, there were whispers as more people noticed his leash. One woman we passed exclaimed that Copia must be excited to see the show.

The booth had a high wooden shelf where the phone once was, and a red curtain instead of a door. When I pulled the curtain closed, Copia stood waiting, his stance wide, hands behind his back.

I gently pulled the leash straight down so it was flush against his body and slid it side to side.

I slipped both hands under the flaps of his jacket. His body was lean and firm, and it surprised me when I touched his bare skin. The clerical collar ended high on his chest.

“It’s not a shirt,” I muttered in surprise. “You’re really dressed like a clergyman.”

“This feels like a confessional,” he said as he let my hands roam over his warm skin. I slipped my fingers to his waistband but struggled to unfasten his tight pants.

He brought his hands forward, and when I let go, he removed both his gloves and set them on the shelf. He stared in my eyes as he unzipped, but I broke his gaze when he pulled his trousers straight down, his thigh hams preventing them from dropping to the floor.

I was fixated on it. On him.

He put his right hand to his cock and stroked it twice before letting go, as if he was petting it before releasing it into the wild.

He was breathing through his mouth, still staring at me.

“May I.”

He offered his hand again, and when I took it, he carefully positioned my fingers around his shaft, wrapping his hand around mine.

His trousers hid more than I realized.

“Most women need to prepare themselves,” he said simply.

I caught him staring at my chest.

“May I see you,” he rasped.

Without breaking eye contact, he lifted his hands to my breasts and slid his thumbs over my skin above my cleavage.

Still holding his cock, I nodded, and he slipped his thumbs inside my neckline and pulled the material down. My nipples hardened as he teased them, and I stroked his cock once, tightening my grip as we stared at each other.

When we kissed, he inched closer, pushing our bodies together, and I leaned back against the wall. His hands went to the skirt of my dress, and I helped him lift my hem so his cock was against my underwear.

“Stop,” I whispered, pulling the leash. His cock was hot between my legs, and he felt how wet I already was through the thin layer of modal.

He stayed still, raising his forearms to the wall on each side of my head. My hands rested on his bare ass.

As he looked down at me, I realized how long his eyelashes were when he blinked. I could feel him breathing.

It was so unlike me to do something like this with a stranger—a hired stranger. I couldn’t help but second guess myself.

“Should I zip up,” he said softly.

“No. Not yet.”

His intense eyes pierced me every time I looked at him, and I had to glance away. Neither of us spoke, but those two minutes were strangely the closest I had to felt to anyone in some time.

“We should go,” I said reluctantly, dropping my hands.

He straightened and pulled up his trousers, putting his gloves on again as I rearranged my dress. When I was ready, he opened the curtain.

As we neared the ladies’ room, I slipped the leather loop from my wrist.

“Can you wait here?”

A woman exiting the washroom stared at the leash, and Copia seized the opportunity.

“Pardon me,” he asserted. “Would you mind holding this for her?” He gestured for me to hand her the loop.

She looked from him to me, and I held out the leash’s handle.

“She’ll just be a minute,” Copia convinced her.

“Do I need to do something?” She looked confused.

“Not if I behave,” Copia added.

“Thank you.” I placed the leash in her hands.

When I returned, a crowd of women had gathered around Copia and he was entertaining them. They were standing in front of one of the lobby paintings, a replica of Manet’s _Olympia._

“Most would say that Manet mocked classical tradition with his flat style and controversial subjects,” Copia said matter-of-factly. “Here, he portrays his muse as a courtesan... in her post-coital bed,” he emphasized, pausing when he saw me.

I gestured for him to continue.

“She’s received many gifts from her lovers.” Copia turned his head to look at the nude figure, waving his hand to illustrate the painting. “The pearl earrings, the bracelet, the flowers arriving for her.” He turned back towards the women. “Yet look at her disinterest.” I glanced at the painting and the nude woman’s blank stare. “They’re clueless about her needs—about her desires—as a modern woman.”

The surrounding women murmured in agreement as his eyes rested on me. He licked his lips.

When I approached and took the leash, Copia heeled at my side.

“It was my pleasure to meet you, ladies. I hope you enjoy the opera.” He took their hands and kissed the backs of them before we departed. Two women stroked his chain when they said goodbye.

“You know art history?” I asked as we headed towards the stairwell.

Copia dawdled, admiring the other paintings on the lobby wall.

“That surprises you because of my occupation, does it.” He stopped and leaned forward to examine another replica.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.” He looked me in the eye. “I take pleasure in many things.”

Copia escorted me up the stairs and showed our tickets to the usher waiting at the landing. The usher directed us up more steps and to the side, opening a door to our private box. There were four chairs, two rows of two, a program and lorgnette on each seat.

“Are we expecting company.” Copia asked as he led me down the shallow steps to the front row.

“No. This is just how they set up.” I glanced to the stage, and the curtain was closed. The theater was half full, with many patrons standing and talking in the aisles.

Copia put his hands on the cold metal rail and looked down at the crowd.

“He’ll see us up here.”

“Yes. He always looks for me when I’m in attendance. Usually I come with friends.”

When he leaned forward to scout the area below, he politely held his chain against his chest, preventing it from clanging on the rail.

“I will have my arm around you at all times of course,” he continued as he formulated a plan. “But if it doesn’t disturb your enjoyment of the opera,” he paused and locked eyes with me, “I would suggest a lot more.”

Copia pressed his cock against the rail as he spoke.


End file.
